Crave by JC Emery

Author:JC Emery [Emery, JC]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Left Break Press
Published: 2015-11-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

“Babe, time to wake up,” I say. She’s out cold and doesn’t hear a word I say. The woman hasn’t slept much since we hit the road yesterday, but she hasn’t talked much either. I’m cool with her sleeping, because we still have a long way to go before we even cross the Michigan state line let alone Detroit. It’s the silence when she’s awake that eats at me. Being patient isn’t my issue. It’s the timetable we’re working off of that’s the problem, because it doesn’t allow her the time she needs to get comfortable for the conversation we need to have. I’ve been trying hard not to pull my patch on her, but with every hour that passes and each state we cross, keeping my commitment to the club at bay becomes more and more difficult.

All I know about what’s going on here is that Amber Wallace hired Elle to find Rig back in May—a good month after he went MIA—and Elle took the job for two reasons. One, Amber and Elle are tight as fuck and, despite there being no blood relation between the women, Amber’s kids think of Elle as their aunt. And two, Amber hinted that hiring Elle to take care of Rig—even though it’s club business and therefore none of either of theirs—wasn’t exactly her idea. I was able to check my shit a little better when Elle told me she thinks it was either Amber’s dad or grandfather who put her up to involving Elle—and I don’t have the rank to say shit about that considering Trip Wallace is Forsaken’s founding president, and his son, Amber’s dad, served as Detroit’s president before taking the gavel for the California Nomads. I might be dumb enough to get my nose dirty for my woman, but I’m not a fucking idiot. There’s a fuckton of history here that I don’t understand, and I don’t need to right now. I just need the basics that are going to help us bring Amber’s boy home.

Elle lets out a light little snore and shifts in her seat. She can’t be comfortable. The cab of the truck is a good size, but my woman is six foot and almost all legs. It’s dark as hell out here in the middle of nowhere with very few street lights to illuminate our path, but with every one we pass under, I give in to the compulsion to look at my sleeping girl. She doesn’t look peaceful or happy—not even in her fucking sleep—which I get because she’s hurting. I just wish she wasn’t. Losing her father was one thing, but then losing what little bit she had of Grady just made that pain go deeper. I knew she was attached to him but didn’t know how deep that shit went until they had their blowup outside of the 101 Club a few months back. I didn’t react to overhearing the shit they said to each other very well and let it eat at me until Grady and I got into it a few days later.

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